Take Comfort
by artemis-nz
Summary: When Akihiko's pain becomes too much to bear or to hide, Misaki brings him comfort. Usami/Misaki.


Usami Akihiko was no stranger to pain.

He knew he didn't look it, but he sometimes felt twice as old as his twenty-nine years; writing for a living was no joke. Stiff shoulders and gritty eyes were the least of it, though he thought he hid the rest well enough. At times he could hear the creaking of his bones when he got up from his chair or climbed up the stairs, and his back was often so knotted that simply clambering out of bed each day could be a chore. Muscles cramped and twitched from disuse whenever he had been sitting over his computer for any long period of time, and the glare of the screen frequently caused his sight to play tricks on him.

He took more care whenever Misaki was around – god knew his lover worried enough as it was – but hours upon hours doing battle with words took their toll, especially when Akihiko was involved enough in his writing to forget certain things. Things like the fact that his body needed food or water or rest faded into the back of Akihiko's memory until something – or someone – reminded him that these were things his body required.

These days, said someone was usually Misaki yelling at him that he eat some damn food already, or shoving a bottle of water under his nose. Akihiko supposed it was better than fainting, which was probably less productive in the long run anyway. But for Misaki's sake if not his own, Akihiko tried to make more of an effort. And to give Misaki due credit, Akihiko had noticed the difference – not only had Aikawa not needed to kick down his door in months, his physical health had taken a definite turn for the better thanks to Misaki's dogged persistence. At the very least, a great deal of Akihiko's pain had dulled to a more endurable level.

But tonight, the headache snuck up on him, taking Akihiko by surprise.

He had barely been conscious of it at first; it lay waiting on the edge of his awareness, vaguely threatening but not enough to throw his concentration. By the time he looked up at the clock, however, realising that lunch time had been and gone without him noticing, it had progressed to a steady drumming. Akihiko glanced up at the curtains, squinting, but they were pulled shut, just as he had left them. The light filtering through was harsh even so, and looking back at the screen, his neck audibly clicking with the motion, it seemed somehow brighter than before. Rubbing at his temples, Akihiko decided it wouldn't kill him to take a few minutes break. The walk downstairs to grab a coffee might even ease the tenseness in his shoulders.

But the next hour crept by, and the distant drumming turned into a heavy throb. Akihiko closed his eyes, and the light seemed to penetrate his eyelids, flashing veins of red across his vision. He pressed his fingers into his hair, hoping the sensation would distract him from the pulsing of his head, but even when the force of his nails felt like they might draw blood from his scalp if he dug any deeper, Akihiko gained no reprieve. Eyes still closed, he reached for the glass of water sitting on the nearest bookshelf, sipping cautiously and hoping against hope that it would help.

Only when the sudden bang of a car backfiring from somewhere outside caused him to flinch and grit his teeth in agony did Akihiko finally admit to himself that this was not something he could simply will away. It had been years since his last migraine, but experience told him that it would last for at least another hour yet, quite possibly longer.

He should go to bed, he knew – his bedroom was dimmer than the study, and while lying down wouldn't make the pain any less, it would at least ensure he didn't lose his balance and fall from his chair. If he kept his eyes firmly shut, he could make his way across the hall by touch.

He stood, and it was like the room was spinning from inside his mind. Dizzy and reeling from the resulting light-headedness, Akihiko sat down again before his legs had a chance to give way underneath him. Burying his head in his arms, he took as deep a breath as he dared, concentrating on the rush of air entering his lungs and trying desperately not to vomit.

Misaki found him there some time later – Akihiko couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but the bile rose in his throat once more as Misaki's voice, sharp first with annoyance and then with worry, pierced the quietness like glass shattering. At the sound of it, Akihiko wanted nothing more than to curl up into a tight ball and pretend the world did not exist. But Misaki deserved more than that, and with an effort, Akihiko made himself speak.

"Misaki." It was closer to a grunt than an actual word, but Misaki thankfully shut up anyway when Akihiko interrupted his stream of anxious chatter. "Can you help me up? I need to get to the bedroom."

"I- yes. Yes. Now? Should I call-"

Akihiko shook his head from where he was cradling it in the folds of his shirt sleeves and immediately regretted it. "No. Just get me to bed. Please."

Misaki gulped. "Alright. Just… tell me what to do, and I'll do it. I promise."

God, the fear in his voice was warning enough of what Akihiko must look like. He was sorry he had put it there – more extra emotional baggage for the boy to carry around with him – but they'd have to deal with that later. If he couldn't get the pain under control then Akihiko was pretty sure he was going to throw up or pass out, and he really didn't want to do either if he could help it – not in front of Misaki. He couldn't know what it was like, and Akihiko had no intention of placing that weight on him.

His physical weight, however, Misaki was going to have to take. Forcing himself to his feet and stumbling into the bedroom, leaning heavily on Misaki's thin frame, was several seconds of unadulterated torture, and by the time they had manoeuvred him onto the bed, spots of white were dancing behind his eyelids. He must have made a sound, or else turned suddenly pale, because Misaki was bending over him, unable to disguise the alarm in his next words, whatever they were. Akihiko couldn't hear them for the rush of blood in his ears.

"It's fine", Akihiko told him, hoping the words were clear enough to be coherent – hoping Misaki believed him. "The curtains, they…" He couldn't finish, but he sensed more than heard Misaki hurriedly pad over to the window, fiddling with the material so that they covered every possible stream of light filtering through.

Then Misaki was back, and fingers were combing through his hair. Not rough and needle-like as Akihiko's own had been some time before, but soft and undemanding. The feel of them did nothing to divert Akihiko's attention from the discomfort, and yet… and yet…

"What can I do?" Misaki spoke in a whisper, for which Akihiko was eternally grateful, as his fingers continued their slow progress.

Akihiko took a steadying breath, and then another. Focus. He could do this. "Nothing. Quiet is good. You're doing just fine."

"You're cold, but you're sweating." Misaki's voice trembled slightly.

"I can't feel it. Don't worry."

"I'm going to get some water and a cloth-"

"-No. Stay."

"… Alright."

Misaki resumed his careful stroking, and Akihiko sighed and lay still, allowing time to slip past him. He felt heavy now, like a stone, sinking into the mattress. The bed dipped as Misaki shifted position slightly, the unbroken motion of his hand a warm and reassuring one. Gradually, the torrent melted into the background, and he instinctively let some of the tension bleed out of him, his body relaxing under Misaki's touch.

He drifted, scarcely cognizant when Misaki finally left the room as silently as he was able, only to return a moment later so that he could cover the blonde with a blanket from the other bedroom rather than disturb Akihiko by shifting him. It settled over him, light as a kiss.

"… saki…"

"Usagi-san?"

But the man was asleep and did not reply, the blanket gently rising and falling with each painless breath.


End file.
